Shining Force II: The Manual of Seal
by Noma89
Summary: Upon reaching the mainland, Orin and his friends find Parmecia is not such a friendly place. With the help of his friends, can Orin find his father and stop Zeon's kin from wreaking havoc and helping the Devil King regain his power? Part 2 of RotDK. R&R!
1. Chapter 1 Bloody Byrl

Disclaimer - As mentioned in part 1, RotDK, I do not own any of the original Shining Force, though I did create some characters within the story. I do not intend to sell and/or make profit from this story.

WARNING: VIOLENT CONTENT AHEAD. PLEASE, IF YOU DO NOT LIKE GRAPHIC OR EXCESSIVE VIOLENCE, DO NOT READ. THIS IS RATED M.

Shining Force II: Manual of Seal

Chapter 1 - Bloody Byrl

The soft sounds of movement were apparent in the stillness of the night within the castle. A kind of rustling that usually could only be heard in the dead of night because no other sounds were made to drown it out, as was the case in the day time.

Queen Elis lifted her head wearily, trying her best to adjust her cloudy vision to the darkness of the night. She groaned weakly and lifted herself to sit upright in her bed, to listen to the sound that had so rudely awakened her from a somewhat shallow sleep. Her nights had been troubled as of late, with the still fresh memories of her husband's disappearance, her son's departure, and her own imprisonment. Only very recently was she able to sleep more than a few hours straight through. The sounds of activity didn't help much.

She had finally opened her eyes fully, and examined the almost black room carefully. Despite the darkness, though, she knew the sound was not coming from anywhere in her own room, but rather, the room below. The dim of candle light was visible, as it made its way up the staircase to her room, and as it made its way up the walls, the dim orange disappeared completely as it reached the ceiling. Slowly, the light dimmed more and more, and as did the rustling from the room below.

"At this hour…?" Elis murmured as she stood from her bed and made her way to the stairs.

It was uncommon for even soldiers to pass below her room at this time of night, as they were usually posted on guard on the stairway just outside the cozy lounge below, and down the hallway from that same room. On patrol, they were unlikely to pass through that room, especially with a candle, as the hallways outside the royal quarters were usually lined with lit torches.

She blinked hard, as her vision was still somewhat blurred, the stairway growing closer as she moved. She descended them carefully, her gown just long enough to trip her if she stepped the wrong way, and entered the small room below. She noticed immediately that the hallway before her was empty, the torches unlit, the corridor black, except for a small, dim light at the end. The sound of shuffling could still be heard in the distance. The sight of the black corridor was unsettling, to say the least, especially considering the guard that was to have been posted there throughout the night was missing as well.

Elis crept to the nearby doorway that led out onto a large staircase. This stairway led the way into the throne room and the great hall, and yet again, the lights had gone, and the soldier who was supposed to have been posted there was missing. Quite odd, and even more unsettling.

Elis backed into the lounge, highly uneasy at this point. She faced the long corridor again. The light had disappeared, and the shuffling had faded into nothing. All that remained was a dim purplish light at the end of the corridor, where moonlight came in through the western tower's window. She bit her lip. Who could be moving around at this time of night, and where had all the soldiers gone? Elis had the sudden urge to bolt upstairs and jump back into her bed before something bad happened. Maybe if she tried to forget it, it would just go away.

She decided against it. Her legs pushed her toward the narrow corridor, the pale moonlight through the open window receiving her into its gentle glow. When she reached the end, she turned to face the stairs, looking at them fearfully. The cold grey stone would surely chill her bare feet, but it wasn't that which worried her, but rather what awaited her at the top. She breathed deep, and ascended.

The floors zipped by. The first, the second, and then the third; the highest. There was no guard here either, unfortunately, and the fear within her slowly grew. She turned to face the small stairway that led into a cavern before her. The western tower of the castle connected directly with the mountains located directly behind Granseal, and though the way was usually blocked, the path appeared wide open now.

There, just at the end of the cavernous opening, stood Kasha, holding an overused candlestick holder, the candle upon it almost completely melted. She stood still for just a moment, examining the wall in front of her, and then she turned the corner somewhat excitedly, as if someone was standing just out of sight. Elis followed, almost breathless, creeping as silently as possible behind Kasha. What in the world could she be doing?

Elis walked slowly outside, into the light of the moon, looking about her cautiously. Kasha had disappeared completely, even though it seemed she should only be a few steps away. The Ancient Door to the tower was closed, as it had always been, and there was no one in sight. Elis backed up slowly, trying to gain her bearings. Something was clearly wrong.

-----

Two days had passed since Orin and his company departed New Granseal in search of help elsewhere. Frayja was obviously blinded by his own lust for power and maybe even a bit of his cowardice, hence his inability to handle the situation properly. Since that was the case, Orin had no choice but to continue to the east. He had no idea what he was looking for, really, other than rumors of devil activity he could find. The people of New Granseal had been somewhat kind to him before he departed, telling him he should head for the village of Ribble in the east. There were no rumors of devils near New Granseal, not in hordes like those that had started appearing on Gran Island, at least.

Ribble was the next best place to visit. Vahn had told him about their encounter with Mitula just after Orin had fallen, which, to some extent, made Orin feel worse because his plan to sacrifice himself for his party would have ultimately failed if Mitula hadn't arrived. On the other hand, it pulled his attention toward Volcanon, the god who created the planet. Orin had heard some of Volcanon, and some of Mitula, but he had no idea who they were or what they looked like, really.

He flashed back for just a moment to the day in the church. The two statues that stood before him, of a woman, and an enormous standing bird, its red eyes boring forward into him. He blinked hard. So, Volcanon was a bird? Strange, it seemed to him, that a god might take the shape of such a creature, and the evil that seemed to ooze from the large red eye Orin remembered reminded him more of a devil than a deity.

The fields they stood before now seemed to go on for so many miles. Orin was reminded repeatedly that he wasn't on Grans anymore, and that traveling would be much more tedious than it had been in the past week or so. On top of that, he was very unsure of Ribble's location. He hoped it would jump out at him as they moved over the plains, but he doubted it.

"Orin." Orin snapped back and realized he had fallen behind the rest of the group quite a bit.

Keith stood, looking somewhat worried, just in front of him. Orin blinked hard again.

"What's wrong…?" Orin said as he quickened his pace, only just realizing everyone else had stopped completely.

"Our first encounter. There." Vahn spoke up, pointing into the distance.

There, just outside a large group of trees a hundred yards away, stood a small group. They must have been devils, as they stood poised, motionless, watching them.

"Not many of them." Ikara whispered. "Do you think there are more hiding?"

"I'd bet on it." Jo hissed. "Parmecian devils live to kill humans."

"These are the first we've seen. Do you think they are the ones Sarah was talking about?" Keith now stood at Orin's side.

"I doubt it. The ones my mother spoke of…it sounded like we'd see quite an enormous mass of devils when we got here. No, whatever she was describing was most likely a group much more powerful than this." Vahn explained. "This looks like a ragged, nameless band."

"Well…" Orin rested his right hand firmly on the hilt of his blade. "We could stand here and examine them until the day's end."

Vahn's eyes tightened, and both he and Keith nodded.

Orin drew his sword, and from behind him, the sound of steel on hard leather as Trevor and Sye drew their blades was heard, as well as the clambering of other weapons being readied.

Orin lifted his sword, and with a wave, cast them into battle. Sye dashed forward in front of them, Tess at his heels. Their speed was unmatched. Jo disappeared into the sky, while Vahn, Keith, and Ikara bounded forward quickly, but cautiously. Orin and Trevor made the best of what speed they had, following a fair distance behind Sye and Tess, with Simon galloping out in the middle of both groups, his spear in hand.

As they grew nearer, the real threat emerged. From within the trees, several more devils oozed slowly onto the battlefield. The group now, as a whole, was composed of at least six axe wielding goblins; green and hissing. They seemed much bulkier than those Orin had seen on Grans. Four robe clad figures stood, rods in their gnarled hands, standing quite still with their faces concealed. Obviously spell casters of some kind. Lightly robed and at their sides, stood a few more goblins, wrapped in thin cloths that covered their bodies and most of their faces, a poorly made bow gripped tightly in one hand, and an arrow in the other, a crude leather quiver tied to each of their backs.

Orin despised archers only slightly more than spell casters. He was sure the goblins would fall easily if they got close to him, with their bulky bodies and large axes, they'd be no more difficult than the slow, stumbling axe men of the Exiles. The goblins advanced slowly, hissing and scowling evilly, their axes hoisted up upon their shoulders. The spell casters soon followed, the archers at their heels.

Orin stopped, and even in silence the others understood he meant for them to halt also, and so they did.

"Spread. Attack from three sides. I'll go in after those sorcerers…Ikara and Keith, attack them also. With the physical fighters all preoccupied it should be simple." Orin's eyes tightened.

They were all slightly surprised at his sudden ability to command. Usually they fought boldly and without much tactical thought. A melee that they all hoped would turn out best and in their favor, usually with luck relied upon as a major factor. Was Orin becoming sharper in battle? Has he somehow had the time to think himself through possible battle situations and their solutions?

They all nodded, regardless. His plan seemed sound enough.

"And I?" Vahn puzzled.

"Choose a goblin. Your spells have become more powerful than your staff alone." Orin looked back over his shoulder for only a moment, and then he shot off toward the enemy, the rest of them following obediently.

Vahn's eyes tightened. Orin really _was_ the leader…

Sye encountered the first of the enemy. The goblins had let out a heavy bellow and roared forward ahead of their support troop of ranged fighters. The fastest of the goblins slammed his axe hard against Sye's weapon, drawing the usual flurry of sparks. Sye parried repeated blows, and though they were heavy and somewhat adroit, they were slow attacks. Sye managed, without much effort, to dice the goblin to nothing but bloody shreds of flesh when he had found the appropriate opportunity.

Tess was busy dodging another goblin's blows, and the stupid creature fumbled forward and back trying to keep up, but his useless attempts almost made Tess burst out laughing. She finally ended her fun by slamming a gauntleted fist into the back of the goblin's head, sending him to the ground, and finished him by jabbing her dagger into the back of the creature's neck.

Vahn wasn't as fast as he would have liked, but he was quite able enough to avoid these creatures. He hummed in a low tone an incantation and his body glowed slightly, his eyes went white, and the blades appeared, hovering and humming in the air near him. He sent them ahead with a wave of his staff, and so, the blades flew forward, cutting the enemy on all sides, and as each one faded, new ones appeared until the goblin lay in a bloody heap at Vahn's feet.

Orin made good use of his plan, running now through the large gap between each axe-wielding goblin toward the support group beyond them. The archers readied themselves, and the spell casters lifted their heads in curiosity. Their ugly faces showed they were all almost human looking, with wrinkled faces covered in rubbery looking flesh, their hooked noses hung low on their faces. Hideous witches.

Orin plowed forward, and the arrows came, missing him by some inches or feet, but coming dangerously close regardless. The archers prepared to reload their bows, when some of them suddenly leapt in agony and yelped as flames appeared beneath them, scorching and setting them ablaze. Surely Ikara's work.

Orin came into contact with one of the witches first, her staff raised back over her head in anger. She swiped at him with some ferocity, hissing and cawing in a rage. Orin had some trouble avoiding many of the old devil's attacks, forcing him to actually have to parry the blows, which were somewhat heavy, with his blade. The old witch bellowed finally, and jumped back, her comrades moving forward to aid her, and more arrows appearing from behind the spell casters.

Orin growled in pain as a single arrow pierced his shoulder and lodged itself ever stubbornly in his collar bone. The pain shot through his body, yet he persisted. Trevor was now at his side, attempting to take one of the witches. She cackled at him as he swung his blade to and fro, dodging each attempt with what seemed to be much ease.

Orin quickly regained composer and flew forward, but the witch before him hissed and incantation with haste, and from the sky, fell a heavy hail that rained down upon Orin. He fell backward into the grass, the heavy chunks of ice slamming hard against his body, and his head especially. By the time the hailstorm ended, Orin lay bloody on the field with his arms covering his head.

He stood wearily, his face spattered with blood as more began to ooze down his forehead from within his hair. Blinking hard and refocusing his eyes, he lunged forward desperately at the witch, cutting off her right arm and sending it and her staff to the ground with a thud. The witch cawed with pain and held her wound, while Orin proceed to silence her by removing her head.

Trevor, who hadn't been so lucky, lay sprawled out and unconscious, his face sliced and bloody from the flurry of hail he'd just endured. Keith's arrows had already taken down a witch and an archer, and he was aiming at another enemy, while Ikara sent fireballs forward, but the witches were avoiding them easily.

Only two axe wielding goblins remained, and one of which boldly took on Sye and Tess, while Simon stood nearby, attempting to pierce another with his spear.

Jo was near Orin now, digging into the bowels of an archer, tearing into its innards as its muffled screams slowly died with each sickening slash of her claws. Vahn was attempting to tend to Trevor now, but the remaining witches were giving him some trouble.

Keith intervened, firing an arrow accurately into one of the witch's thighs, sending her to her knees in pain. Orin took on the final witch, swinging his blade at her skillfully, the blood from his head now dripping all the way down his cheek. The witch dodge each blow while cackling tauntingly, her staff occasionally parrying a blow.

A fireball seemed to appear from nowhere and slammed into the witch, setting her ablaze. She cawed with pain and frantically ran across the fields until Orin managed to impale her upon his blade, at which point she became a simple mound of ash.

The final witch stood screaming, the arrow still lodged in her thigh, before Simon pulled back his arm, and hurled his spear forward from some distance, accurately decapitating the witch, his spear landing heavy in the soil with the her bloody skull still attached.

Orin panted heavily as the blood ran down his face profusely. For such a large battle, it ended quickly and with very little problems, except for the hail he and Trevor were forced to endure. Orin was on his knees at this point, wiping bloodied hair away from his eyes and trying to keep focused. His head was killing him.

Trevor was awake by now, though weary, and Vahn then turned to Orin and performed the usually rite, draining the remainder of his energy. Vahn, too, fell down into the grass, panting hard.

"That was actually quite quick…" he gulped. "Compared to the usual battle."

"Well, what would you expect?" Keith sat down next to them, the rest of the group following. "We've gotten better at what we do."

"Maybe…" Orin said, his eyes closed. "Regardless, I hope we don't see any of those spell casters any time soon…"

Orin suddenly remembered the book in his back pocket. How could he have forgotten it? He pulled it out with haste and examined it…

"Witches, of course." His eyes tightened. "I wonder."

Orin flipped through the book, looking for something in particular. He turned to the index, which he never usually bothered doing, and searched through the terms, until he found what he was looking for.

"Possession." He flipped back through the pages listed under than word. "Gizmo…no…no that's not it."

He flipped on, to one of the final pages, and he found exactly what he was looking for. There, near the end, was the devil listed as 'Galam'. There was no craftily drawn figure like there were on many of the books pages, which showed rough drafts of devil figures. This page was all text, and nothing else.

"What is it??" Tess looked at Orin strangely. "What is it?"

"Sh." Orin read the description.

'Not such as to be described as 'devil', in normal terms maybe, as technically Galam was under Gizmo possession to a point, but he is, regardless, a very unique case of such. Being of royal blood and of power, Galam's possession was an extreme blow to all of Grans, if not the planet itself. Galam's rank and the Gizmo's possession, along with Zeon's presence and influence, was what made Galam a real terror. Not to mention his strength. Galam was, according to my studies, contaminated by the Gizmo upon my exorcism of King Granseal. Upon further investigation, it happened that, upon the Gizmo's release from the king's body and disappearance, the Gizmo sought out a new host with help from Zeon's orders.

The Gizmo's next victim was that of Cornelius Hill, a Galam messenger who arrived early the morning of the Ancient Tower investigation, and must have been possessed somewhere outside of Granseal after the exorcism. Upon his return the Galam, the devil controlling his body, he tossed himself like a rag doll into the Galam moat. Fellow soldiers discovered him dashed upon some rocks just outside the city. They came to the conclusion he was murdered, rather than suicidal, and informed Galam. Galam, of course, being a sensible man told his subordinates that Granseal must not have had anything to do with the incident, to which his advisor will attest, but upon inspection of the body, Galam very suddenly changed his mind. It is, at this point, I must assume the Gizmo left Hill's body and transferred itself into Galam's. Still under Zeon's orders, Galam started the war with Granseal.'

How Orin had missed this information in the past was beyond him. This book had been with him since he was young, and he had never even read this entry. It was exactly the information he'd been looking for.

'Galam, though a unique case, is not and uncommon instance in that he was still an average human. Anyone could fall victim to possession. Recalling what happened to Galam when we defeated he and Zeon is what started me most. Galam was possessed by Zeon himself. To keep from being resealed, Zeon transferred himself into Galam's body after his defeat in order to become mobile and retrieve the two jewels. Zeon has obviously perfected the art of possession, as could even be seen by his telepathic destruction of Evil Spirit at an earlier time. If this is true, there is no doubt that Zeon may have even transferred a bit of his soul into other people before his resealing. If not, he could very well possess another devil of any status in order to disguise himself. He may even be able to give other devils the ability to possess humans, or the ability to create entities to possess humans with a masters control. If that is indeed possible, and I believe it is, there is a chance that Zeon could unseal himself by using those he may have left a part of himself in before we resealed him. He could build an army without even having to be unsealed, and then he could return to the surface as soon as one of his subordinates removed the jewels.

Furthermore, he could easily come back for us. Guise or not, or force was merely mortal, and just as vulnerable to being taken over as anyone else on the planet. We are not so special that we could not be possessed. And if he had a subordinate who could control the victims, there's no telling what he could do. He could turn his worst enemy into his greatest ally, the world's heroes to it's destroyers. We wouldn't have a chance.'

And it ended there. Orin was dumbfounded. How was it possible that Astral had predicted something so complex? He must have none something no one else did, or else, he was simply brilliant. The strangest part of all was that Orin realized exactly who Verd was, exactly what he was doing, how he was doing it, and who his master was…

-----

"Your highness." a cold, hoarse voice stopped Elis in her tracks.

She had prepared to search for Kasha just outside the Ancient Tower. She was about to return to the castle to fetch whatever soldiers she could find, but this voice stopped her. It was almost as if whoever had spoken had cursed her into paralyzed fear.

"What are you doing out of bed?" the voice croaked. "It's very late."

Elis's eyes began to tear, and she turned slowly around. There, robed heavily, stood a cloaked figure, face covered, like a standing motionless hunk of cloth. It didn't move, but the words seeped from the open hole where it's face stayed hidden, and that was chilling enough. The moonlight reflected of its dark robes eerily. Elis withheld a gasp as best she could.

"Surprise." said the figure. "I am a big fan of yours, your highness. You have no idea."

Elis said nothing, she could only stand still in fear.

"I believe I have a little friend of yours here." said the figure, and from behind the large figure appear the silhouette of a tiny face.

The face was that of Kasha, and she looked toward Elis with only a slight grin. Not as if she were being sly, but as if she were innocent.

"Hi! You know the master, too?" Kasha peered innocently at Elis, grinning.

"Yes. Yes she does, said the figure, still not moving. "My young friend here has been helping me gain information, you see, about your husband's comrades."

"Who…are…" Elis gasped.

"Little Kasha should go back inside. I will see her tomorrow." said the figure. "And I will bring her more playthings when I come."

Kasha smiled gently.

"Yes, big master. Bye-bye." Kasha waved to both of them and crept quickly back into the cavern.

"She is a good girl. Very innocent, but very helpful. She's quite the eavesdropper, and even better the informant. She's helped us quite a bit." said the figure, it's voice seemingly becoming raspier with every word. "But really she can only so much, and I can't blame her. She is only human."

Elis couldn't manage any words from her mouth, but the tears were streaming heavy down her face. The gravity seemed to increase tenfold very suddenly, as if she was being crushed. The sky was instantly black, and she could suddenly see very little, but the figures approach was apparent, a florescent set of green eyes creeping ever closer.

"And my brother would want me to drain every ounce of information from you, too, now that you're here and you've seen me, but my brother is a thinker and a sorcerer, I am very different." the figure slowly pulled back his robe, revealing a very humanlike face and green glowing eyes, long red hair hung around a black bandana. "And I honestly find you useless now."

"Why…" Elis gasped. "Who."

"I don't have a name, and I prefer not to have one, but my brother and my master insist…my name is Byrl." Byrl grinned, a large set of fangs were bared as his eyes tightened to tiny green slits of light.

Byrl lifted his arms slowly, still grinning largely, almost as if his face had gone from a normal human's to a disfigured one with an uncanny resemblance to that of a wolf. From under each of his wrists shot a large naginata, both of which he now clenched tightly in his hands.

"And I promise to make you wish death upon your son, now…" he hissed, his voice having become almost like that of a large beast. "For I will make this as painful and as lasting as possible. And I shall love it, I shall bask in the sound of your cries. And you can wish your son death, and wish yourself death and an end to the pain, but it won't come until I decide, but you should know…"

Byrl leaned forward, and his face twisted more, into something so disfigured, his eyes suddenly open wide and bulging green, his grin now making his entire face a set of fangs, and the saliva began to ooze down his face, his voice becoming now a roar almost as Zeon's was.

"**_YOUR SON IS DEAD!! HE IS DEAD!! BWAHAHAHAHAHA!! GAH, AND HE DIED LIKE A FALSE HERO, LIKE A GROVELING PETTY HORSES ASS. HE DIED BY HIS FATHER'S OWN SWORD, AND HIS BODY WAS LEFT FOR THE WOLVES AND THE VULTURES TO DISEMBOWEL AND SHIT ON!! GAHAHAHA!!_**" The voice rang loud across the crevices of the mountain, and Elis was flat on her back now, in total shock and fear, drowning in tears, screaming in terror of the beast that stood bellowing before her, more hideous a thing than Zeon as she had remembered him.

"NO! NO, PLEASE!!" She gasped. "HE IS NOT DEAD!!"

"**_DENY WHAT YOU LIKE!! YOU'LL DIE A WORSE DEATH THEN HE DID, A BITCH'S DEATH WITH NO HONOR, SLOWLY BLED AND SLOWLY PULLED INTO HEAPS OF FLESH!! I AM YOUR GOD…_**" and so he began his thrashing.

Her body was torn, his two glaives, the naginata, removed limbs slowly, legs and arms. Dissecting her soft stomach was easy, with a few quick slashes her innards were exposed, and then removed, still working and pulsing, and her chest was slashed and destroyed slowly, both of her breasts removed with slow excruciating slices. She lived through it though, eventually she stopped screaming and just choked on blood and breath, and just before her crushed body and exposed heart stopped working, bloody Byrl ended her by removing her head…not at the neck, but from the center of her mouth. Granseal no longer had a queen.


	2. Chapter 2 Warderer

-1Chapter 2 - Warderer

"No! Please!!" Frayja twisted within Mishaela's grip, trying his best to free himself.

"He's a silly little fat man, isn't he?" Mishaela giggled.

She had returned quickly with him, without breaking even a sweat, and decided she wouldn't harm him at all until he was back in Zeon's lair.

"So? He would suffice?" Zeon bellowed, sounding a bit agitated.

"Yes…" Mishaela still held him by the collar as he flailed viciously. "Exactly what I need. He'll do fine. Now all I need to do is…"

"NO!! PUT ME DOWN, PLEASE!!" Frayja screeched as Mishaela removed her other hand from within her robe, and brandished a small gleaming dagger.

"QUIET!" Zeon roared, louder than usual.

Frayja fell instantly silent.

"Now…" Mishaela lifted the dagger slowly to Frayja's throat. "Close your eyes, old friend."

"No…no, please. Let me go…" Frayja pleaded, his eyes now shut tight. "Please…"

She slit his throat ruthlessly, letting the blood drain from him as she held him in the air. He gasped for only a few moments, and then simply lay limp in her grasp. She dropped him carelessly.

"Now I just need a piece of Warderer…" Mishaela herself cringed at the name.

"I was prepared for this…Verdelet." Zeon hissed, and Verd appeared from the air, a gnarled blade in his hand.

"I'm quite sure this belonged to your old friend." Verd smiled, holding the sword in Mishaela's direction.

She snatched it angrily.

"Shut up." She hissed in return, and threw the blade to the ground near Frayja's lifeless body. "Friend indeed."

"Well, get to it then." Verd grinned.

Mishaela was steaming but she did not respond. She was doing her best to remember her temper, since she really wasn't in the place to be showing anger as a weakness. Kneeling slowly by Frayja's body, she lifted the rusted blade and thrust it deep into his stomach, splashing warm blood to the ground around him. Mishaela lifted her hands, and from them, a purple orb slowly manifested, growing slightly larger as she knelt there.

She took one hand from the orb, which still floated above her, and placed her other hand on the bloodied sword. From that, two separate lights appeared, one white, and one black, but both of them in the same orb, battling each other. It looked quite similar to a yin-yang symbol, the orb spinning and humming as she lifted it in her other hand.

"Good…" Zeon hissed. "Yes, bring him back."

Mishaela concentrated hard on Frayja's body, one hand holding the large purple globe of energy, the other grasping the swirling sphere of both light and darkness. Her eyes widened as she strained to concentrate, strained to keep herself from exploding as she put all her energy into her palms, clenched both orbs tightly, and finally, smashed them together.

The sight was spectacular. An explosion of light and color, but without sound. The blindingly bright colors lit the dismal chamber, and the miles of empty space above them became visible in a flash of rainbow streaks. But slowly, the color dimmed, and slid down the walls, creeping back to where it had originated.

Mishaela panted heavily, on her hands and knees, looking at the cold floor of the tower below her as the sweat dripped from her nose and chin. She was surprised she hadn't passed out. She did admit, though, it had been harder to revive Darksol that time so long ago. The difference being that, for Darksol, she was willing to give up her body and her soul. When she had brought him back and awoke somewhere distant, half her body destroyed and the other half maimed and horribly scarred, she was grateful that was all she had had to endure, and as could be seen now, she had recovered fully, though it had been a great many years since then.

She dared not to look up as the light dissipated. The great fat corpse of the Chancellor Frayja was gone, only blood remaining where his chubby body once laid. The sword, too, was gone, and the room finally returned to darkness, except for a very faint, dim light Mishaela could see just in her field of vision. It was coming from directly in front of her, and she knew the man stood before her. King Iom himself, the once powerful priest, Warderer.

Verdelet marveled, Zeon grinned, if ever he could grin with that great gaping snout of his. A young man stood there, long, billowing red robes surrounded him. His face was smooth, not sunken as it had been when he died. The revival had reduced his years as well as bringing him from the dead, and he was at least 25 years younger than he had been when he was slain by a great hero of the past.

"King Iom." Verdelet grinned excitedly. "It is a great honor."

Warderer stared into the darkness of the tower, seemingly dumbstruck. He did not move, he did not even let his eyes wander, as if he were just a shell of a man, no brain or innards. A statue. Then, finally, he blinked. Hard. His eyes turned slowly to the great mist like figure that was Zeon.

"I…uh…" Warderer's voice was almost as crisp as Verdelet's. "I…"

"Good to see you, Warderer. I've heard much of you since my sleep." Zeon bellowed. "I trust you realize who I am and where you are?"

"Not…" Warderer's eyes wondered to Verdelet, and then to a still gasping Mishaela. "Not completely. Not where I am. You…"

He grimaced, squinted, then shook his head slowly.

"I…Zeon…correct?" Warderer blinked hard again.

His brain was just getting it's first pumps of blood in many years of rotting stillness and decay. It was understandable that he was both shaken and confused.

"Indeed, I am Zeon." Zeon's eyes closed slightly. "And you, my friend, have just been resurrected. How do you feel?"

"Is this hell?" Warderer looked around again. "Zeon, you are dead. This must be hell…"

Verd chuckled heartily, and Zeon could have laughed as well.

"I do not die, your Majesty. And you are on Earth, trust me. This is not hell. I've seen much closer to hell than this old tower." Zeon's bellows made Warderer even more uneasy.

"Then where?" Warderer looked at Mishaela again. "Is that…? Tell me that's not who I think it is."

"An old friend of yours, I'd guess." Verd grinned again. "Say hello to your Master."

"My Master!? HA. I am King Iom, I have no _Master_." Warderer was obviously returning to his old senses rather quickly. "Especially not her. That is Mishaela, isn't it!?"

Warderer laughed heartily, and Verdelet was inclined to join him.

"You're lucky I was generous enough to waste my time bringing you back, you sorry heap! I would have left you to burn in hell if I knew you'd be so ungrateful!!" Mishaela's face twisted in anger, but slowly she cooled down as the last of her words were said.

"So it is you, you old bitch. It's been a long time, even before I died." Warderer finally stopped laughing, and his face tightened quite suddenly thereafter. "My, you look like shit! And you're so old now! You've truly grown into your profession."

Verd was almost on his back laughing at this point. Zeon was not as amused, but he didn't stop them. Mishaela was about to explode, but she didn't have the energy, so she could only let out an angry 'HA', and then turned her face back to the ground, still exhausted.

"She _really_ brought me back…?" Warderer actually sounded surprised. "Why the hell? What's going on?"

He was suddenly very serious, and Verd had stopped laughing almost instantly.

"We require your assistance. The Devil King ordered your resurrection." Verd said, his eyes gleaming from within his cloak.

"And for what?" Warderer pressed. "As fitting as it were that I should live, why do _you_ need _me_?"

"For what you do best. You brought Iom from the depths of the Earth many years ago. If you could unleash such a beast…" Verd smiled. "Surely you could help resurrect a Devil King just as easily."

"A Devil King…?" Warderer looked slightly puzzled, but maybe a bit more amused at the fact that his assistance was required. "Lucifer hasn't been seen for years. Who knows whether he's still alive or not. I cannot reanimate someone who may still be alive."

"Lucifer is alive somewhere…at least that is what we believe. But he is nothing compared to me…or Darksol even." Zeon bellowed. "No, the other Devil King."

"I just said I cannot reanimate an already living being. It just doesn't make sense!" Warderer snarled.

"Who says Darksol is alive?" Verd hissed. "You really have been dead a long time."

"That's…" Warderer frowned. "…Darksol would never get himself into a such a situation. He cannot die."

"I cannot die." Zeon growled. "Despite Darksol's power, he was not immortal."

"You're lying." Warderer hissed. "How long has it been since he passed!?"

"Over a hundred years, I'd guess. I think you were actually alive at the time of his passing, but word doesn't spread too fast among humans…" Zeon's eyes tightened. "But that is besides the point. You are the only one experienced enough to revive such a powerful soul."

Warderer grimaced. He was very confused at the moment, never mind groggy from his recent awakening. He couldn't recall what the afterlife had been like at all, but he was sure he remembered all the things that happened in his life, and he was sure he had died…

"I will not." Warderer decided. "I will not revive Darksol. I cannot. You overestimate me."

"You'd do best to change your mind immediately." Verd drew his sword and grinned.

"Hahaha!" Warderer grinned back. "You can't hurt me. I'm out of your league, kid."

Warderer drew and equally grand blade from the scabbard on his hip, and held it out in Verd's direction, grinning. It was quite sturdy looking and it gleamed brilliantly though the room was fairly dark, but Verd's eerie dark blade seemed much more powerful.

"Stop it." Zeon bellowed. "Verdelet."

Verd's eyes tightened and he sheathed his blade, and, soon after, vanished. He would follow his master's orders, but he wouldn't always enjoy doing so.

Warderer grinned and sheathed his blade, turning back to Zeon.

"Then I will take my leave." he said crisply. "Seeing as I cannot perform the rite you desire of me."

"You will not. Both you and Mishaela will work to revive Darksol, as you had Iom. You will be compensated, of course." Zeon growled.

"I require no need of gold." Warderer turned his back, his cloak rippling behind him.

"You misunderstand. I can grant you power." Zeon was becoming angry at this point, as bargaining was something his found both irritating and below him. "The kingdom just outside this tower is ruled by a feeble queen and no one else, as her king is in my possession. I can give you that kingdom."

"I will return to Iom." Warderer said simply.

"Iom is no more. Your death freed the country and there is no way to retrieve it." Mishaela finally spoke. "You're out of options. Zeon will kill you if you don't comply."

Mishaela wasn't so eager to help Zeon, but rather willing to do virtually anything to return Darksol to life. Warderer had stopped in his tracks now. He knew Zeon could kill him, but he was much more tame in comparison to Mishaela. He would not jeopardize his newly gained breaths of life. He turned back to Zeon, his face slightly pale.

"Mishaela will follow my orders, else I will not even attempt." He said quickly.

"Easily done." Zeon's eyes tightened again, while Mishaela gritted her teeth in anger.

"What!? I will not…!"

"You _will_ work under Warderer without argument, lest you should forget how I can crush you without mercy." Zeon was, at this point, frustrated at how complex the task of reviving Darksol would be, and the arguments certainly weren't helpful to him.

Mishaela said nothing. She got to her feet slowly, still gritting her teeth, but not a sound escaped her lips.

"Now. What does the rite require?" Zeon said in a calmer voice, though he was still bellowing as he always did.

"Well assuming you have something of Darksol's, it will be quite easy. Not as difficult as Mishaela's, I'm sure." Warderer giggled as he looked over at Mishaela's reddening face. "And before we start this little ceremony…"

Zeon tried his best not to lash out and tell Warderer to shut up and get to work.

"Why, exactly, have you sunken so low as to require the need of greatest enemy back from the underworld?" Warderer asked. Mishaela perked up at this.

She hadn't really thought to ask that question again, seeing as Zeon had answered her cryptically the first time, she assumed he knew something she didn't. Maybe he would answer Warderer, though, if only to shut him up and get him working.

"I have my reasons…" Zeon seemed bent on keeping his reasons a secret, but Warderer wasn't as easy to avoid when it came to questioning as Mishaela.

"Tell me, lest I should change my mind for lack of motivation." Warderer demanded.

"You dare…!?" Zeon's eyes widened in anger.

"I do. If you really need me you won't kill me either." Warderer snapped. "Well?"

Zeon's eyes tightened again, and he hissed something under his breath.

"I need him to do something for me…it's quite a lengthy story…" Zeon's bellow was louder than usual, his rage near it's peak. "Darksol is one of my very greatest enemies. He helped seal my power away, and for that, I cannot ever forgive him."

"We both know the story, I'm sure." Warderer grinned. "Get on with it."

Zeon ignored this.

"I am quite easily the most powerful being on this planet. I could take what I want, when I want, as soon as I pull myself from this pit." Zeon growled. "And yet my power as of yet is not fully regained. I am unsealed, but it takes time for evil power to gather here. If I had the Jewel of Evil, though, I would become instantly as powerful as I had been the day I defeated Darksol and Lucifer."

Warderer grimaced. "You've yet to tell us anything we hadn't already known."

"I'm getting to that!!" Zeon erupted, shaking the walls of the tower around them. "You forget yourself in my presence, King Iom. I will remind you to whom you are speaking!"

A cascading, icy wind sprung from Zeon's gaping mouth, and was followed immediately by the ghostly image of thousands of hideously maimed heads flowing forward toward Warderer. The ghastly human like creatures, tortured and groaning with eternal agony, were shot forward instantly, and their icy images crashed into Warderer with heavy moans and clawing hands.

"AGH!" Warderer choked as the creatures disappeared around him, and as more flowed forward and knocked into him.

Mishaela's eyes began to slowly widen. The disgusting souls had started clawing and hitting Warderer with such force that his skin was beginning to crack and bleed in various places. Very suddenly, the barrage of ghouls ended, and Zeon's translucent head gaped at them, his eyes very wide. His good eye shook rapidly in it's socket, obviously showing how filled with rage he still was.

"Now! Warderer!" Zeon roared. "You will hold your tongue! You know I will not kill you, but you don't seem to understand that I _will_ get what I want, regardless. I can torture you until the end of time, my good King! Do you wish it so!!?"

Zeon's mouth began to gape slowly wider, and from the depths of his throat the echoing sounds of moaning spirits came flowing out.

"NO!" Warderer was on his knees, his face bloodied and his cloths torn and shredded. "Please! No!"

"Mishaela!?" Zeon's eye lurched suddenly in her direction. "You should be glad I chose him as an example and not you!"

Mishaela gaped, but said nothing.

"Now." Zeon blinked one eye, obviously trying to control his anger. "Darksol and Lucifer created the Jewel of Darkness, and Volcanon created the Jewel of Light to keep it in check. It would take at least five years to regain my power fully here. It would take maybe two to allow me to come to the surface. I already have the power to kill Volcanon."

Neither Mishaela nor Warderer said anything, at risk of being instantly destroyed.

"No one seems to understand, though." Zeon growled. "That the power sealed in the Jewel of Darkness is _mine_. That does not mean that I am the only one who can utilize it. Anyone who knew how to control it's power could do so."

"Then why didn't Darksol!?" Mishaela yelped, suddenly realizing she may have just ended her own life.

"He did not know how." Zeon said calmly. "He was a powerful sorcerer, but he was smart enough to know that if he tried to use my power to make himself stronger, he would have destroyed his body. There are those, though, that are willing to experiment with it until they have my own power within their grasp. And then I would have quite a time getting it away from them, now wouldn't I?"

Warderer was panting heavily, his face smear with blood. Though he was revived in a younger form, he now looked to be maimed for the rest of his life.

"Now. I need Darksol because only he can destroy that jewel. Once I get it back and regain my powers, I'll need it destroyed, and then I will let you all be." Zeon bellowed.

Mishaela hesitated, but finally spoke in a low voice. "How can we believe that?"

"You don't have to." Zeon roared. "You'll do it regardless, now won't you? I have other reasons for wanting Darksol alive. Those reasons are my own, and revealing them would cause…problems."

Mishaela gulped, and Warderer continued to pant weakly.

"King Iom." Zeon's twitching eye turned back to the wounded Warderer. "Take Granseal. Make it yours. Kill Queen Elis and you shall rule in her stead. It won't be hard and you're clever. Go."

"That won't be necessary." A cold voice similar to Verd's echoed from somewhere within the tower.

"Byrl…?" Zeon scoffed. "You know better than to speak in front of guests."

"I killed Elis." Byrl's voice came from all around.

"You what!?" Zeon roared, shaking the tower heavily. "When!?"

"Just a while ago. She is dead. It was great, and I enjoyed it."

"I told you not to leave the tower!!"

"I get bored here, Master. You give me no errands to run like Verdelet. I am lonely." Byrl sounded hurt, but his voice was still quite cold an evil.

"I'll deal with you later." Zeon growled, turning his eye again to Warderer. "Then your task is made simple. I will send Mishaela and Verdelet to help you in your studies to revive Darksol later. For now, I want you to get the kingdom settled in."

Warderer gulped and stood weakly, turned, and, without a word, walked slowly into the corridor that led up and out of the cold, dark tower.

***

"You're basing this entire theory on an entry in a book, Orin." Vahn had been pleading for what seemed like hours now.

They had reached a small town just on the outskirts of a forest after two days of trekking across the open plains of Parmecia. Orin has since explained his thoughts on Verdelet and his possessed allies, as well as Astrals entry on Galam and possession. Vahn was skeptical, though the others seemed to think it made a good deal of sense.

"Listen." Orin was tired of arguing. "I'm not going to keep this up, and you're not changing my mind. Zeon is doing this. He has to be."

"Zeon's been sealed for years, Orin. The only way he could ever come back is if someone, somehow, got into Ground Seal and broke it. And only someone with the jewels could do that…" Vahn was tired of arguing, too, but he didn't want the entire group chasing invisible devils. "And even if it is Zeon, he's back in Arc Valley. We started out in the right place and we've come hundreds of miles in the wrong direction."

"No we haven't. We've come to exactly the right place."

"How?" Vahn now looked puzzled.

"We can't fight Zeon. I know my father did it, but he didn't do it alone." Orin explained. "He had a score of comrades, and he had Mitula and Volcanon."

Vahn's eyes widened. "We're going to see Volcanon!?"

"According to your mother, the concentration of devils on this continent is a lot larger than it is on Grans. That's one reason we're here." Orin said. "If this is true, then either Zeon is controlling them and we have to disperse them anyway, or they're working alone. Regardless, someone is leading them, and any possible ally of Zeon is a threat to us."

"Okay…" Vahn seemed defeated. "And what other reason are we here?"

"To see Volcanon. He'll know what's going on."

"So we are going to see him?" Vahn was still very surprised.

"Will he help us?" Keith looked somewhat skeptical.

"I don't know. I guess we'll see." Orin sighed.

"Are you sure about this, Orin?" Trevor asked, his face very serious.

"I don't have a choice."


End file.
